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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25834543">Cycle Everlasting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocket_infinity/pseuds/pocket_infinity'>pocket_infinity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hollow Knight (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, so much hurt you guys, so so so much hurt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:42:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25834543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocket_infinity/pseuds/pocket_infinity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As Grimm's final hour approaches, it finally becomes necessary for him to tell his lover about not just the ritual and his own end, but the worse things yet to come for the two of them within it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grimm/The Pale King (Hollow Knight), The Pale King/White Lady (Hollow Knight)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cycle Everlasting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I want to note that this is NOT a canonical part of my Flame &amp; Frost, Heart &amp; Soul series. that's safe, y'all</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grimm and the Pale King appeared in a flash of red smoke in one of the palace’s many twisting hallways, both laughing as the King closed his umbrella. Grimm let out a sigh as he looked at the wyrm’s smiling face, both of his eyes closed with laughter. He let his gaze hover there for a moment, smiling at the sight of his love’s face with a bright bit of joy in his heart before a deep-seeded sorrow snatched that from him. He kept smiling, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Grimm,” the wyrm said, finally letting his laugh end. “Tonight was lovely. So, so lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was,” he responded, planting a kiss on his lover’s cheek. “I don’t think that there’s such a thing as a bad night with you, honestly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nor is there one with you,” the King replied, gently rubbing his cheek after Grimm pulled away. “Are you busy tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure…” Grimm replied, tapping a claw on his chin as he kept his smile going. “But you have court, don’t you?” He asked. Even from a mile away, he could feel an annoyingly familiar cough building in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s right…” the King grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” Grimm said, squeezing his wyrm into a hug. “I’ll be sure to make an appearance. And then there’s the day after for another date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” the Pale King replied, hugging him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any thing, any place, any time,” Grimm said, finally letting go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” the wyrm said, pulling away with a frown. “It’s getting late. I should sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, little king,” Grimm responded, tapping one of the points of his crown. “You’ll hardly even notice the time we spend apart.” The pressing force of the cough grew stronger, feeling as if it was beginning to crush his lungs. He kept smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose I won’t,” the wyrm replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Grimm.” he smiled before turning and beginning to walk away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Farewell,” Grimm half-wheezed. He tugged in a deep yet silent breath before holding it as best he could for a few moments. He couldn’t go too far, not like this—just… just another section of the palace would have to do. It was a big place, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snapped his fingers, disappearing in red smoke again before returning on some form of a balcony. Within less than an instant, the coughs finally he’d been suppressing finally began to emerge as he let go, staggering to the railing. His entire body convulsed with each one, and for a few of them it almost felt like he was vomiting as his body continued snapping forward with each and every one. He finally came out of them for a moment, gasping in a few gulps of air before he was right back to coughing them out. He could feel his legs beginning to tremble beneath him, and so he shifted his weight to his arms as he kept on coughing over the railing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, as they began to subside, he turned around, letting himself sink to the ground with his back against the railing as he pulled in heavy breaths time and time again. Another, smaller round grabbed him after a moment, and he covered his mouth with a hand to avoid dirtying the immaculate floors. He glanced at the hand for a moment, verifying that the usual red stain was there before nodding and wiping his hand on his cloak, pulling in deep breaths the entire time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“F-fuck,” he muttered, trying to pull himself to his feet before collapsing back down. Getting out sooner would have most certainly been in his benefit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steadied his breathing, pulling air in and out at consistent intervals so as to not upset his lungs any further. Eight months, it had been. Eight months and not a single flame taken. No wonder he was like this. Why did it always go this way? For each and every Grimm before him, always the same three paths: distancing themself from everyone and everything, falling for someone or finding a family and living with the heartbreak of having to leave, or staying and slowly withering away. Always, always, always loss. A choice between deaths is hardly a choice at all, he thought to himself as he sighed. He let his eyes close for a moment, pulling in a breath before turning and gripping the handrail to pull himself up again at long last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A beautiful trail of plants and flora intertwined with silver metal spread out in front of him. He smiled at the sight; it was a rather fitting thing for an inventor and a gardener to construct together. The smile faded as Grimm looked down, his eyes unfocusing as he drifted into thought again. He couldn’t leave. Not now, not ever, not while his wyrm lived, and not even after he died—</span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> he ever did manage to die. He and his root seemed to have a knack for avoiding that. But not Grimm, no. Never him. Never stupid old him, a man with the same name passed between generations untold while the old one died and left nothing but a child and, if the Troupe was lucky, a journal for the memories that died with them. Male, female, otherwise, didn’t matter. Young or old, stupid or smart, kind or cruel, courageous or cowardly, they all met the same fate. Always the ritual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands gripped the rail tighter and tighter until it cracked under the force. Gods, he hated this, every single second of </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his life with the constant knowledge that he lived on a death clock. Every single part of it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, down to the very core, the very start of it. It just… it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>fair</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Above and before all else, it was cruelly, wholly </span>
  <em>
    <span>unjust</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His grip relaxed as he sighed, anger giving way to familiar sadness. He’d done this before. This exact feeling, this exact monologue to himself, he’d already gone through it two other times in the past month alone. And every other Grimm before him had done it too, he supposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rested his forearms on the now-cracked railing, letting his head fall into his hands as he sighed and closed his eyes. There was still time before the ritual had to get going, before he had to make his own Child from the flames that gave the Troupe its immortality. A little while longer, just a bit more time with his wyrm before he needed to find a new champion and go through it all. Even if he had just a week—and maybe he did; it got hard to tell, sometimes—that would be enough. One more week of seeing that beautiful little pale face, hearing his sweet voice, his laugh, his humor, the latest gossip from the court, casual dates with fun facts about Hallownest. Little time with little things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimm felt a tear roll down his cheek before he took in a shuddering breath and let it out as a sigh. Even if it was unfair to himself, no matter how much he hated his fate… his wyrm would fare worse. One day Grimm would be there, and the next he’d be gone. Poof. Nothing left but a mysterious child and someone to care for it. Gods, and then he’d still have the Radiance situation with nobody to help on top of that. Grimm rubbed a few more tears away from his cheeks. He needed to know. Grimm needed to tell him. Gods, but that… no, he had to. And it had to be in-person. Right. Grimm stood upright, pulling in a breath before snapping his fingers again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reappeared in his personal tent within troupe grounds, startling Brumm as he appeared. Grimm caught himself on his desk, wheezing slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-master, you’re back,” Brumm remarked. “I was just cleaning up in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Brumm, that’s very kind,” Grimm said, waving a hand at him without turning to look as he pulled in a breath and opened his desk drawers. He pulled out an envelope and a piece of paper, slamming them on the desk while he searched for a writing utensil. He vanished in another puff of smoke, appearing near his bed and looking over it for a moment before disappearing and reappearing in front of Brumm, causing him to drop a case of underclothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brumm, have you seen any pens of mine lying around?” He said between breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrm,” Brumm replied. “Master, you really shouldn’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Brumm, but this is important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And so is your health,” Brumm started, picking up the case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I heard you the first time, now where are my pens?” Grimm asked, teleporting back to the desk and opening another drawer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master, please-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brumm, just a yes or no, for the love of the Heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn it, Grimm!” Brumm shouted, dropping the case. “I’ll tell you, but can you stop killing yourself every third second!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to tell the King-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I know, he’ll miss you! But Divine and me and the rest of our Troupe aren’t keen on losing you either, though, so stop making it </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimm sat down in his chair, putting his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands. “Yes, yes, you’re right, Brumm. I’m sorry…” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Brumm sighed, reaching up to the top of Grimm’s cabinet and pulling off a little cup full of pens. “Here,” he continued, handing them to Grimm. “I put them up there so I wouldn’t knock it over by accident while I moved other stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Grimm said, taking it and swallowing a knot in his throat. He pulled one pen from it before setting the cup down as he began writing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dear Pale King,” he started before shaking his head, crumpling the paper, and throwing it to the side of his desk. Brumm rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My Dearest King,” he tried again before repeating the same action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To My Sweet King,” “To My Love,” and “Dear Wyrm” were all thrown away in succession before Grimm paused, biting the end of his pen as he thought before going back and penning the entire letter in one go before pulling back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To My Beloved Little Light,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know this will sound strange, but there is something we need to speak about. I’ll explain more once you’ve arrived, so, please, once you’re done with court and all that, come to my personal tent. I’ll be here all day.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.S. No, this isn’t a breakup. It’s just important.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forever Yours,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Grimm</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He read it over once, twice, three times before sighing with a nod and waiting for it to dry, at which point he folded it and gently slipped it into the envelope before writing “Pale King” on that same envelope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back in a moment, Brumm,” Grimm said as he stood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t-” Brumm started, but Grimm was already gone in a puff of smoke. The musician simply sighed before returning to his cleaning. It soothed him, anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimm arrived back in the palace corridors, right next to the royal chambers this time, and he muffled a cough by letting it out as a sharp breath before creeping towards the door. He silently twisted the handle and opened the door ever so gradually. Sure enough, both the Pale King and the White Lady were in the room. Even luckier, both were somehow already asleep. Grimm slipped in, leaving the door open behind him as he moved to the other side of the room, where the King kept his extensions. He set the letter in the middle of their holding ring before creeping back out, closing the door quietly behind him. Another flash of red smoke, and he was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrm. Welcome back,” Brumm said without looking at the sound of Grimm’s cloak fluttering around him as he appeared. “Please get some rest, Master.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… yeah, I was planning on that,” Grimm replied, lying down on his bed and letting sleep pull him from the waking world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Pale King opened his eyes, stretching all four arms as he leaned up before getting his tail and legs as well when he got out of bed the next moment. He yawned as he moved towards his closet, selecting a standard pair of robes before tossing them on. When he came to his extension holder, however, he found the letter addressed to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” he said, turning it over in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it, dear?” The White Lady asked as she rolled over to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A letter,” he replied, opening it and tossing the envelope as he turned around to lean against the table. His eyes scanned quickly over the paper as he unfolded it, and he immediately went from tired to completely frozen before frantically flipping the paper over, as if to check for some hidden message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wyrm?” The root asked. “Is everything alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have any pressing matters in court today, do you?” He responded, still staring at the letter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, none at all,” the White Lady said, rising from the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’d like to cancel court for the day, if it’s okay with you,” the wyrm responded, tossing off his current robes and grabbing his traveling cloak from the closet without letting go of the letter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m more than happy to avoid the bureaucracy, but why the change, my wyrm? What’s in the letter?” She asked, quickly rising and walking towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Grimm,” he replied, handing it to her as he threw the cloak’s hood up and yanked down its veil. The next instant, he was walking out the door while the root read the letter, squinting at it when she finished it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wyrm,” she said, and he leaned back into the doorframe. “Whatever happens, know that I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too, dear,” he responded before departing once again, leaving the White Lady to read over the letter a few more times. He set a hand on the shoulder of one of the retainers as he moved through the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Court is canceled for the day. Tell anyone and everyone,” he said before hastily walking off for the stag station.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grimm slept for barely three hours that night before waking up, finding Brumm gone and every light in the Troupe completely out. He sighed as he stood up and immediately began pacing around the room, contemplating what he was going to say when the King arrived with the occasional stray cough interrupting his thinking. He didn’t get quite as much time as he would have liked, however, as the King and his light appeared in his doorway within the span of two hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grimm,” he said, walking swiftly up to him and grabbing one of his arms. “I saw your letter; what’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-...” Grimm started, choking on his words. “Hold on, I just- okay, let me get us to someplace better, someplace more private. Here,” he said, holding out a hand. The King took it, and the two disappeared in a puff of red smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They popped back back into existence on the roof of one of the tents—a large one, one big enough to conceal them from onlookers and well beyond where anyone could hear them as they sat on its curved cloth surface. Grimm leaned into his elbow before letting out a series of sickly coughs before pulling back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh…” he said, wiping his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” The wyrm asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly?” Grimm replied. “No, not at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the matter, then?” The Pale King said, eyes brimming with concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—” Grimm said. “Hold on, I need to think of a way to say this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bluntly,” the King responded. Grimm breathed in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m dying, King,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every sense in the wyrm’s body shut off at the words. All sight became blurred, all noises deafened as Grimm seemed to try to explain more, all touches felt distant and numb, and the already limited smells became nothing but a distant memory. His blood froze in his veins, and his breathing hitched, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” He asked, the words so distant they hardly even felt like his. Some far-off part of his ears told him that Grimm was speaking, but none of the words registered as the wyrm stayed frozen in place until Grimm’s hand finally touched his shoulder and he flinched out of the shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, my love,” Grimm said. “I am so, so sorry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-but you’re a god, Grimm, a god like me and my lady and Unn and your sister; we don’t die, that’s not how it works,” the Pale King said, his eyes frantically looking every direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Things are different for me,” Grimm replied, his head turning down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, that doesn’t make sense, Grimm! </span>
  <em>
    <span>How</span>
  </em>
  <span> can you just- just </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” The King said, grabbing grimm’s arm tighter as tears began to well up in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s because I’m not actually the God of Nightmares, technically speaking,” Grimm replied. “I’m just one of its vessels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ ‘One of’?” The King asked, looking at him as tears began to roll down his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grimm isn’t as much a </span>
  <em>
    <span>name</span>
  </em>
  <span> as it is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>title</span>
  </em>
  <span>. My father was named Grimm, his parent before him, and his parent before him, all the way back to the very first time the Nightmare Heart—the </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> source of magic for me and the Troupe—first made its way out of the dream realm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- what? Grimm, I still don’t—this doesn’t explain why you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>dying</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the King said, leaning into Grimm as he began to cry more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you go, let it out…” Grimm said. “It’s because nightmares are </span>
  <em>
    <span>destructive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, my love. All those flames, all that magic, it doesn’t just appear from thin air, it works like any other fire, and it needs a fuel source to keep going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, what, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> the fuel source?” The King asked between sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. Normally we can… slow it down for a while by skimming off of other people’s nightmares and using them as fuel instead of, well, whichever Grimm is alive at that moment. That’s why the Troupe is normally a traveling act. We keep needing to find more kindling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should’ve told me…” the King said, resting his head on Grimm’s chest. “Grimm, you should’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>told me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I would’ve let you go in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>heartbeat</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We could still see each other, I just…” the King came to a stop. “Can you please just tell me that this is some nightmare I’ll wake up from soon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, my light,” Grimm said, gently rubbing the King’s shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wyrm sniffled. “How long do we have left?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe a week?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-and what then?” The Pale King asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then the ritual starts. I build a child from the same flames that my father made me from, and then someone else comes, and them and I do battle until, eventually, I fall, and the flames move on to the child. The fiercer the fight, the stronger the child will be.” Grimm wiped away some of the King’s tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that child is the next Grimm…” the Pale King said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Pale King pulled in a breath before letting it out, interrupted by sobs. “So… so who’s this person who will fight you?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah…” Grimm said. “Normally we’d just pick someone with some incredible power, run them through a few tests and trials, and then let them face me in the ultimate battle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there a but…?” The Pale King asked. Grimm nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve only found one person in this Kingdom who we think would be strong enough to defeat me at the height of my power…” He said, looking off into the horizon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” The King asked, leaning up slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimm simply looked at him, his jaw shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… no no no, Grimm, no, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> do this to me, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the wyrm half-shouted as he cried not a river, but a full ocean. “Grimm, pick someone else, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> else, just not me. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be someone else—maybe my lady? I don’t know, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> do this, Grimm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s weak to fire, my love…” Grimm said. “And you, she, and I are so far ahead of all others that it’d just be a suicide mission for anyone else to try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I…” the Pale King started before he began to choke on his own crying. “Please… can’t you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I’ll work something out, I’ll find a way to keep you going, I promise. There’s got to be a way to avoid this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There isn’t, my little light,” Grimm said. “Some of the oldest Troupe members have seen past Grimms try and fail. The moment the link between a Grimm and the Nightmare Heart is suppressed or broken, they just… cease to exist. They barely managed to scramble together a solution the first time someone tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” the Pale King said before going silent for a few long minutes. “How much longer do we have?” He asked weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About a week,” Grimm replied, turning back towards the horizon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C-can we spend it together?” The wyrm asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every second, if you’d like,” Grimm said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would,” the King responded, leaning back into Grimm and simply staying there, tears running down his face for a number of hours he didn’t care to count.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From that moment on, the King canceled every single appointment not just for one week, but two, and Grimm and the wyrm reveled in that one week they had. They burned the letters the nobles sent, went to breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, saw countless shows, recounted stories, visited all they could in Hallownest—they even went to see the Pale King’s old, discarded body, as strange as it was. And there were the nights spent lying awake, simply talking to each other about what was on their minds; those nights ended in tears, more often than not. But for that week, that one, beautiful week, it was the two of them together like they had never been before. Every waking moment devoted to each other and nothing else. Flame and Frost, Heart and Soul united like they had never been before. The knowledge of the ritual to come rained upon their joy, yes, but they became an umbrella for each other, just a single glance often more than enough to dispel that feeling of dread during the daylight. But, as with all things, time eventually ran short.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The morning came when both of them awoke, seemingly normal until Grimm looked into the Pale King’s eyes and said a thousand words at once. They shared a kiss before Grimm left to go say his goodbyes to his Troupe. The Pale King reclaimed the armor he hadn’t worn in years, donning it with tears in his eyes while his wife stood by, giving any consolation she could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left her with a hug, steeling his eyes and posture as best he could as he moved through the city all the way up to Dirtmouth; he wasn’t exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>rushing</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get there using the stagways, after all. Once he slipped within the bounds of the Troupe’s tents, he let the tears fall freely. Brumm directed him towards the main tent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The musician stopped at the entrance, holding it open for the Pale King to walk through. The wyrm gave a nod as thanks, unable to speak. Brumm let the flap fall closed, staying outside the door. The King continued on through a small hallway before it opened into a large, circular theatre. Grimm stood in the center of it, gently holding a small bat remarkably similar to him in his hands. The two gave each other quickly-wavering smiles as the King approached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, look, little one,” Grimm said to the child in his arms. “It’s-” he choked on his words for a moment. “It’s your father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young child mewled as Grimm handed them to the Pale King. They immediately tried to wriggle their way back to Grimm, but he simply crouched down to their level, looked them in the eyes, and said, “It’s okay, my child. I’m right here.” His voice broke for a moment. “Take good care of them, please,” Grimm said to the Pale King with tears in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will, Grimm. I-” he squeezed them in his arms, letting out a sob. “I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Grimm said, stepping back and holding out both hands. “One last dance?” He asked. The Pale King nodded as he stepped forward, passing the child into his lower hands before taking Grimm’s hands with his upper pair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One last dance,” he confirmed, tears falling from his face onto the child. Nightmare Essence swirled around the two, and they found themselves in an almost exact replica of the room they had just stood in a moment ago, the only differences being the material and color palette—more fabrics and more red. Grimm stood before him, all the black of his body now turned to a magnificent red and with slightly elongated horns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Pale King stepped back, as did Grimm. The wyrm conjured dozens of levitating white nails around him before creating four longer ones for him to hold himself, finishing off with a few Soul-made shields. Opposite him, Grimm simply stood, a wreath of flames surrounding his head and neck. The Pale King shut his eyes, took in a breath, forced himself into as numbed of a state as he could, and nodded. Grimm nodded back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the two were off. Grimm struck first, throwing slashes and balls and pillars of fire at the King, no matter how much it hurt him, in turn, and the Pale King simply let his impulse guide him as he blocked fireballs, twirled over slashes, and deflected the pillars of fire, albeit at the cost of one of his shields. Grimm moved forwards again, jumping and slashing and clawing at the King only to be blocked and parried and countered time and time again by the man he loved. He felt the cuts and slashes appear along his legs and chest and head as they started to bleed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fell back into ranged fighting, with projectile nails and fireballs to melt them, bursts of light and bursts of flame to block, floors being set ablaze and the King ascending on Soul-forged wings to dodge. He hardly even seemed to break a sweat throughout the whole ordeal. Back and forth they went, each one stealing the advantage from each other, both of them screaming in agony within their hearts as the dance of light and fire went on and Grimm grew more and more injured. The King knew he couldn’t stop, as much as he wished he could, and so he didn’t. On and on, he continued attacking Grimm with only minimal relent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally and at long last, the dance concluded when the wyrm managed to slip one of the shields under Grimm’s feet and flick him into the air with it, proceeding to land a full hit with a beam of pure Soul against the man and, consequently, slam him into one of the walls. Finally, as he fell, the Pale King rushed forward, angling one of his nails upwards. It went directly through Grimm’s chest, quick and clean. Both of them froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment passed before the Pale King dissolved that nail back into nothingness along with all the other thing’s he’d manifested during the fight, and he quickly laid Grimm down upon the floor, holding his head gently. Grimm gave him a pure, loving smile before he reached up and pulled the King into one final kiss, both of them closing their eyes. After what could never be enough time, Grimm pulled himself away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you…” he said as his body dissolved into nothing but flames and Nightmare Essence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The King’s eyes fluttered open, and he found himself returned to the real world, lying on the floor of the tent. His arms still cradled the child, and he found their eyes to be glowing red as he looked down at them. Grimm’s body was nowhere to be seen; there was nothing left to bury. The wyrm came up to his knees, holding the child as he looked around a couple of times before he began to cry again. He couldn’t find the strength to stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so the Pale King knelt on the floor in the center of the tent, letting out horrible sobs and cries of grief as he tightly held the child, the last remainder of the man he loved, in his arms.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>just...</p><p>@pocket-infinity on tumblr. that's all ive got</p></blockquote></div></div>
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